Star Wars_ The Han Solo Trilogy 01_ The Paradise Snare - A. C. Crispin [139]
But he’d never figured on a dishonorable discharge, loss of pension and back pay, and—worst of all—being blacklisted as a pilot. They hadn’t taken his license, but Han had quickly discovered that no legitimate company would hire him. He’d tramped the permacrete of Coruscant for weeks, in between alcoholic binges, looking for work—and found all respectable doors closed to him.
Then, one night, as he’d tavern-hopped in a section of the planet-wide city near the alien ghetto, a huge, furred shadow had flowed out of the deeper shadows of an alley and confronted Han.
For long moments Han’s ale-fogged brain hadn’t even recognized the Wookiee as the one he’d saved. It was only when Chewbacca began speaking, thanking Han for saving his life and freeing him from slavery, that Han had realized who he was. Chewie had been quite direct—his people didn’t mince words. He, Chewbacca, had sworn a life debt to Han Solo. Where Han went, from that day forward, he would go, too.
And he had.
When Han had finally gotten them passage off Coruscant, piloting a ship with a load of contraband to Tralus (the cargo had been magnetically sealed into the hold—Han hadn’t had the equipment or the energy to break in and find out exactly what it was he was smuggling), Chewbacca had gone with him. On the week-long voyage, Han began teaching the Wookiee the rudiments of piloting. Space travel was boring, and at least that gave him something to do besides brood over lost futures …
Once on Tralus, he turned over his ship and cargo, then went looking for another assignment. He wound up at Truthful Toryl’s Used Spaceship Lot, asking the Duros for work. Toryl was an old acquaintance, and he knew Han was a reliable and expert pilot.
The Empire was tightening its grip all the time, taking away the rights of its worlds as well as its citizens. Duro had a shipbuilding industry nearly equal to that of Corellia, but they had recently been prohibited by Imperial directive from placing weapons systems in their ships. Han’s clandestine cargo proved to be a shipment of components useful in outfitting ships with weapons.
By the time they reached Duro, Chewie was becoming a fair copilot and gunner. Han hoped that teaching the Wookiee these skills would make it easier to get rid of him on some world. If he knew the Wookiee could hire on as a skilled pilot or copilot, he wouldn’t hesitate to dump him in some port and then lift ship—or so Han told himself.
Once on Duro, Han drank up some of the profits from his mission, while waiting to be contacted for another piloting job. His patience was rewarded one day when a Sullustan approached him and offered him good pay to take a ship from Duro, avoiding any Imperial ports of call, a third of the way across the galaxy to Kothlis, a Bothan colony world.
Of course the sleek, swift little craft was “hot”—stolen from some wealthy owner’s landing pad. Han had to remind himself that he was no longer in the business of keeping the law—he was in the business of breaking it.
So he set his jaw and piloted the stolen vessel to her new home on Kothlis. Then he went looking for another assignment, and eventually found one. On the surface, this job seemed legit. Han was to ferry a large nalargon from Kothlis to Devaron.
Han had never heard of a nalargon before, which wasn’t surprising, as his exposure to music had been limited. A nalargon proved to be a very large instrument that was operated by a keyboard and foot pedals. Pipes and sub-harmonic resonance generators produced sound on many wave bands. The instruments were in demand for the jizz craze that was sweeping the galaxy.
Accordingly, the huge instrument was brought aboard the ship Han had been assigned, bolted to the deck, then left sealed in the cargo compartment.
Han investigated the instrument once he and Chewie were safely in hyperspace. He tapped it, poked and nudged it, turned it on, then tried pressing the keys and